
The Card Players (van Leyden)
Coins and cards on the table and a great deal of sidelong glancing. Somebody is being cheated, and the intrigue may not be financial.

Coins and cards on the table and a great deal of sidelong glancing. Somebody is being cheated, and the intrigue may not be financial.

A milkmaid, a herdsman and two cows, and almost nothing happening. One of the first prints to take peasants as a subject worth the burin.

Two fingers raised in a gesture reaching back to Byzantium, one hand on a crystal orb, the face long and sorrowful and unmistakably his.

A few sweeps of brush and brown ink, most of the paper left bare, and the whole weight of a sleeping head is there.

Bacon started from a snapshot of a friend dozing in a park and then removed the head, the identity and the ease.

The episode appears in no Gospel at all, and Altdorfer nearly buries the figures under a forest of enormous trees and luminous sky.

Neptune drives his trident down to still the waters. It was made for a fountain, so real water once finished the sculpture.

Bare priming still shows where the Virgin was meant to sit. Michelangelo probably set it aside to go back to Florence and carve the David.

Ascanius draws his bow on a tame stag, the shot that starts a war in the Aeneid, and Claude paints it as a calm golden evening.

Masts stand black against a sky going from gold to soft blue, and almost nothing else in the picture is solid.

Spartan girls taunt the boys into wrestling, and Degas made the bodies awkward rather than ideal, which is not how history painting was done.

He swivels over his shoulder to look at you, holding a block that nobody can identify, and his name has been lost entirely.

Bruegel gives the holy figures plain faces and surrounds them with gawkers and whisperers, which makes reverence hard to come by.

Richelieu appears three times on one canvas so that a sculptor in Rome could carve a bust without ever meeting him.

Monet went to Venice late and found a city already doing what he had spent fifty years trying to paint.

One vast skeleton pushes through a torn bamboo blind, where the convention had always been crowds of small phantoms. Three sheets wide.

Satire on old age aping youth, in a headdress two generations out of date. Tenniel used her for the Duchess in Alice in Wonderland.

Splintered stumps and shell craters under a cold sun, and Nash gave it that title on purpose, as an official British war artist.

A satyr kneels and touches the dead woman with extraordinary gentleness while her dog keeps watch and wading birds stand along the shore.

The kneeling figure on the left is the same shape as the stone hand on the right, holding an egg with a flower coming out.

Mantegna carved the rock like an engraver while Judas already leads the soldiers down the road. His brother-in-law Bellini painted the same scene, softer.

A red cap, a parapet, and a gaze that meets yours. Antonello brought the Netherlandish portrait into Italy and killed off the profile.

The princess has the dragon on a leash made from her own belt, and a spiral storm cloud winds up behind the saint.

Lazarus heaves upright still wrapped in his shroud while the crowd recoils from the smell. Michelangelo supplied drawings to help beat Raphael.

Marie-Thérèse asleep beside a sculpture of her own head and a philodendron, from the year Picasso could seemingly do nothing wrong.

A black figure with a red dot for a heart falls through blue, cut from paper because Matisse could no longer stand at an easel.

Eggs are visibly cooking in the pan as you watch. Velázquez painted this in Seville when he was barely nineteen years old.

Pissarro painted these boulevards from a hotel window over and over, but only once after dark, the gaslight smeared across wet pavement.

Blake's Urizen leans out of the sun with a golden compass to measure the void, and Blake was not sure whether to admire him.

Mars sleeps the sleep of the spent lover while satyrs make off with his lance, one blowing a conch in his ear without waking him.

Red-clad hunters and dogs funnel into a black wood toward a single vanishing point. One of the earliest night scenes on an Italian panel.

Picasso's classical calm breaks here into something jagged and violent, the limbs flung out almost crucified, set off by the death of an old friend.

Part boiler, part elephant, with a tusked hose coming out of its head. Ernst took the shape from a photograph of an African grain bin.

Saint Ursula is on the quay somewhere, but the real subject is the light coming up the water between the palaces at dawn.

The sun sits low over a glassy harbor and floods everything. Turner admired it so much he insisted his own work hang beside it.

The second version, painted to settle a long quarrel with the confraternity. Everyone now has a halo and the angel has stopped pointing.

Bellini painted the brocade thread by thread and turned the official portrait from a profile on a coin into a man met face to face.

Erasmus rests his hands on a book whose edge is inscribed The Labors of Hercules, his own joke about how much scholarship costs.

He is neither laughing nor a cavalier. The lace and gold thread on that sleeve were flicked on in a few confident strokes.

Lichtenstein blew a single war-comic panel up to mural scale across two canvases, Ben-Day dots, caption box and all.